Pilot Media - Veterans Day 2016

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Pilot Media is pleased to salute our Veterans. Hampton Roads is home to the nation’s largest population of active duty and retired military members and their families. Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, Marines, and Navy…every branch valiantly serves to protect our freedom and way of life. The Virginian-Pilot is proud to donate a portion of our proceeds from this publication to the USO Hampton Roads. On Veterans Day, we join a grateful nation to HONOR THEIR SERVICE. The local chapter of USO of Hampton Roads keeps our military men and women connected to family, home and country throughout their time of service. Through their countless acts of caring, comfort and support they are united in the commitment to support America’s service members by keeping them connected to the people, places and things they love. To donate to the USO Hampton Roads go to: WWW.USOHRCV.COM


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William Stanley, veteran of WWII, has long been retired; at 93 you’ll find him snuggly ensconced with his wife, Cloyce, at Atlantic Shores, a neighborhood for 55 and better in Virginia Beach. Several photos from his wartime service hang on the walls of their apartment. On a table beside the television sits a Christmas gift from his children, a model of “The Worrybird,” the B-24 from which he once dropped bombs. A metal fragment that hit him in the chest during a mission is encased in a small, clear plastic box, a souvenir of riskier times. Next to it lies a bomb toggle switch from a vintage B-24 – “My son bought that for me off of eBay,” smiles Stanley. He once dropped many a bomb with a switch just like it. Each prized item will be passed down to family, but Stanley’s memories are preserved for anyone who wants a first-person account of a slice of WWII history. Ten years ago, Stanley sat down on camera with interviewer Stan Schrader and shared his experiences during the war. The DVD is now on file at the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural History as part of the Veterans History Project. Congress created the program in 2000 and the project welcomes submissions from veterans of any period. If you’re a veteran or have a veteran

in your life, you can learn how to participate by visiting www.loc.gov/vets//vets-home.html. Stanley also recently sat down with other veterans from Atlantic Shores to pass along memories to local Junior ROTC cadets as part of the Vets and Cadets program. Cadets record interviews with veterans using the Storycorps.me app and then upload the audio files to the Library of Congress where they’ll be safely preserved (www. facebook.com/coxfcnjrotcprojectviewavet). “MacArthur said old soldiers never die, they just fade away – well I’m fading away,” Stanley chuckles. “We’re all fading away. But you guys are recording it before we do.” And that’s important, he says.

One of his favorite childhood memories is sitting on his great-grandfather’s knee, listening to accounts of the Civil War. “He was a veteran of that war, a Union guy, and he told me about being captured by the Confederates and how he escaped,” Stanley says. “And he also told me stories his great-grandfather had told him about the Revolutionary War. So here I’ve touched the hand of a guy who touched the hand of someone who fought in the Revolutionary War. “History is so compressed, it’s small, it’s a short time,” says Stanley. And we keep it alive and relevant for future generations when we take the time to honor our veterans by listening to, recording and preserving their legacies.

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orders to report for duty in February, 1943. A battery of tests qualified him to train as a pilot, navigator and bombardier. “They must have needed bombardiers that week, because that’s where they assigned me,” he laughs. “So I went through bombardier training, I’m 19 years old, full of vinegar, feeling untouchable. I’ll survive, I said. I later heard the Army Air Corps had the highest rate of casualties of any service.” In bombardier school, Stanley learned to use the new Norden Bombsight. “That was one of the closely guarded secrets of the war at that time,” he says. “If you went on a training mission and the plane was disabled for some reason, you were responsible for that bombsight, you had to personally dismount it, take it with you, sleep with it if that’s what you had to do to protect it.” After completing his training, Stanley and his crewmates were sent to Hamilton Field in San Francisco to pick up their fresh-from-the-factory B-24. “Of course we had to name her,” says Stanley. “We came up with the Worrybird, after the bird that flies backward because it doesn’t care where it’s going, it only cares where it’s been.” A Walt Disney artist painted the nose art on the plane for $50, and they were off for Italy. The oldest member of the crew was the 24-year-old pilot they dubbed Pop. Their welcome to Italy was a sobering one. “The day after we arrived, our squadron, the 719th, sent up seven airplanes in a formation of 32,” recalls Stanley. “Of the seven planes, only two came back and they were full of holes. This was our introduction to combat. It was an eye-opener. We had just slept in the same tent with two of the guys who were lost. Just like that they were gone.” The base he was assigned to, near Naples, was built on the bombed out remains of an Italian airfield. “The allies hadn’t taken all of Italy yet, we hadn’t even reached Rome at that point,” says Stanley. The countryside was beautiful – “Our tents were right by an orchard of olive trees and they were in full bloom,” he says. “I’ll always remember them.” Stanley quickly settled into a routine; mail call was always a highlight. From his diary entry of April 26th: “Imagine it, I got 14 letters today! Boy it was good to hear from home…I read the letters over and over again enjoying them more each time I read them.” But always at the back of his mind was the knowledge that any day could be his last. “You send up a group of planes, each time you lose some of them,” Stanley says. “I knew statistically I shouldn’t survive.” His diary entry from May 5th offers a hair-raising account of his 13th mission: “They woke us up at 0730 to attend a briefing at 0840. Well, I knew it was going to be rough as soon as I saw it was Ploesti, although I didn’t think it would be as rough as it really was. We hit a lot of flak over the target and then we were in for it…There we were with no fighter escort and about 60 enemy fighters coming in with guns blazing. “We got in several hits and beat them off. Four of our B-24s went down, although we saw a lot of parachutes. Well I sorta relaxed after that. We were on our way home and down to about 9,000 feet and I noticed a large factory off our left wing. At the same time I saw guns flashing on the ground. Then it hit us. I’ll tell you there were clouds of it. You could hear it exploding… “The Worrybird was hit in about 70 places. I don’t see how we got through. One B-24 went down and several had engines out. Really rough…I think we hit the target pretty well. We started a lot of fires. Yes sir, lucky 13.” Stanley says his safest missions were the ones he flew ac-

companied by the deservedly famous airmen from Tuskegee, Alabama. “They were our favorite guys to escort us, those redtailed devils. That’s what they were called – the tails of their fighters were painted red. “It’s not well-publicized how much they contributed to the war, but it was a heck of a contribution,” Stanley says. “They would stay right with the bombers they were protecting and that was in contrast with some other pilots who would leave us to fly off for dogfights with the enemy.” The night before a mission, Stanley would receive word he was flying the next day and he’d go to bed early. “They’d wake you about 3:30 in the morning and you’d go get some breakfast, powdered eggs and some spam, then the officers would go to the assembly hall where they would orient us, just like in war movies. There would be a squadron commander at the front and they’d pull back a curtain and we’d learn where we were going. “They would give us the weather, tell the bombardiers how high to set our bombsights, and we’d synchronize our watches – again, just like in the movies. We’d count down, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, hack! Because time was important. If our target time was 12:01 and we got there at 12:04, some other bomber group would be at the site starting their bombing run and we’d have to circle around, a place we didn’t want to be, and try to slip in. “After we were briefed, they’d turn us over to the chaplains and most of the guys would kneel and say a prayer. Then we’d go to our planes, check things out, they’d load the bombs and we’d take off.” Halfway there, Stanley would crawl down into the bomb bay and arm the bombs.

“Every now and then you’d hear the gunners testing their guns and maybe you’d get some enemy fighters come in. You’d hear them call, ‘Here comes something at 3 o’clock,’ or ‘There’s something at 9 o’clock.’ And the floor of the plane would be covered with spent shells.” Once over the target, Stanley would focus on his bombsight. His diary entry from June 16th describes a successful run: “We hit a synthetic oil refinery in Czechoslovakia. I mean it was a refinery, it isn’t anymore…The plant itself wasn’t very large, but through my bombsight I could see the first bombs hit. I’ve never seen such violent explosions. The whole earth just belched forth a volcano of red flame and black smoke. An hour (150 miles) after target time the plant could still be identified by the pillar of smoke above it.” Finishing a bombing run and turning for home didn’t mean the planes were out of danger. From a July 15th diary entry: “On the way back, I heard what could really be classed as drama. [Plane] #55 had 2 engines [fail] and they were getting ready to jump. I tell you, the pilot, Blanton, was so calm it was breathtaking. He made wisecracks to the other fellas…Finally he gave the orders to jump and we saw 10 chutes floating down. It did something to you. It made you proud to belong to the same bunch of fellows they belonged to. It made you want to fight all the harder. Those guys knew what they were up against and yet they could joke in the face of it all. I hope they get back.” Stanley later learned they were captured and spent the remainder of the war as POWs. On August 6th, Stanley flew his 50th and last combat mission, a bombing run to Toulon during the invasion of Southern France. From his diary: “Our target was pretty clear, although not from a distance. There certainly are a lot of ships down there. We sank two destroyers and hit the sub pens okay. Had to feather engine #3 just after target. I was really sweating, that’s a long haul for 3 engines. The worse part was the weather we had to come through. Went right through a big thunderhead and did it shake us up. That’s dangerous with 4 engines! “How does it feel to be done? Really, I can’t tell just yet. I still expect to have to fly, face the flak. It is definitely a relief. I really didn’t expect to finish. There were just too many fellas going down. I’ve always wondered why certain fellas are lost and others not. I’ll never understand it…All I can say is I’m thankful.” Stanley boarded a ship home and after 30 days leave, he was accepted for pilot training. “I still had a hankering to be a pilot and that year of flying was the most enjoyable time of my service,” he says. He was almost through school when the Japanese surrendered on September 2, 1945. “We had been training for Japan,” says Stanley. “No question about it, that’s where I would have ended up. A lot of guys were saved by Truman’s decision to drop that bomb.” Stanley chose to head back to college on the GI Bill rather than remain in the service; he eventually earned a Ph.D. in chemistry and enjoyed a long career as a research chemist. “Millions of us trained under the GI Bill, engineers, scientists, doctors, teachers, you name it. It was a wonderful piece of legislature.” He still recalls the camaraderie of those wartime years. “It really was a band of brothers kind of thing,” he explains. “We went all over Europe, we depended on each other. Then I met my wife and had a good career. But I grew up in that war.”


THE MISSION CONTINUES

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It was the early ‘60s and despite occasional mentions on nightly newscasts, Vietnam had little claim on Americans’ attention. Sergeant Bob Cleary, U.S. Marine Corps, was training in Okinawa when word went out that volunteers were needed. “They wanted four officers and four NCOs to go to this place called Vietnam,” he recalls. “Vietnam? We’re thinking where is that?” Cleary and his fellow volunteers were issued equipment, including a camera, notepad and Vietnamese currency. “They wanted us to do OJT, what we call on-the-job training,” says Cleary. “The only ones over there at the time were special forces, really super guys. We were the first Marines as far as I know.” Their instructions – observe, record, but don’t engage. “We were to go out and live with the people, learn their ways and then come back with an after action report because we might be going to Vietnam someday,” Cleary says. “Well, they didn’t tell us that, but we suspected it.” In Vietnam, the team split up and Cleary was paired with a special forces advisor at a jungle outpost near the Cambodian border. The rats had the run of the place, but at least there was mosquito netting. His first stakeout lasted nine sweaty hours with no enemy in sight. Back at the bunker, he stripped off his boots and socks. “My legs were full of leeches,” Clearly says. The special forces advisor, a jungle pro after six months at the outpost, showed him how to use a cigarette lighter to dispatch the bloodsucking creatures. That night they hear a loud pop, pop, pop. Gunfire, says Cleary. “The enemy is all over

the camp, they’re shooting, we’re hunkered down in our bunker, we can see them, they can’t see us.” His special forces companion is shot in the leg, however. “So they medevac him; I’m by myself now.” Occasionally, says Cleary, a South Vietnamese captain would drop by. “I’d eat with him and he’d tell me this or that.” Cleary continued to observe and one day he was ordered to another outpost. “They thought I was trained like the special forces guys, that I’d been to jungle school, recon, that I could advise. But I had lost about 30 pounds, I was weak, I was the one who needed advice,” he laughs. A young pilot picked Cleary up in a Piper Cub, an aircraft small enough to maneuver in and out of short jungle landing strips. “He drops me beside a rice paddy and rolls out,” says Cleary. “An Australian officer is supposed to pick me up and I’m looking and see all these people in the rice paddy,” Cleary says. Suddenly a jeep barrels down the path. “It’s the Australian and he yells, ‘Jump in!’ We take off and he tells me the men in the rice paddy are a battalion of Viet Cong. I was almost ready to wave at them. “We were only there for a couple of months, but I watched and followed and took pictures,” says Cleary. “When they came to take us back to our unit in Okinawa, my comment was I hope we never have to come back over for a war.” A short time later, Cleary’s one-year Okinawa tour ended. “The battalion was floating back to San Francisco on an LPH (an aircraft carrier for helicopters) when they turned us around. What’s going on everybody wanted to know. The scuttlebutt was flying, we’re at war with China, we heard all kinds of things.” They were heading to Vietnam. “We had about 1100 marines onboard and we were some of the first ones to make landing,” says Cleary. “I was in charge of a platoon that was going in the second wave, and we’re waiting for the helicopters to come back when we hear the elevators on the flight deck. The first platoon came down and there they were, arms, legs missing – they went right into the middle of it.” Cleary wasn’t new to combat – the Massachusetts native enlisted in 1951 at age 19, just after the Korean War broke out. “If I was going to join, I wanted to join what I still feel is one of the best outfits in the world – the Marines. We’re the 911 of the United States of America,” he says. He trained in demolition, but when he reached Korea they put the young corporal

behind the controls of a Caterpillar, building roads. “I could hear the explosions at night,” says Cleary. “I’m a Marine and I want to get into battle. When the Chinese broke through the front lines, they asked for volunteers.” Cleary joined a group heading across the Imjin River, right into battle. “It’s pitch dark, the top of the truck is blown off and we get into a culvert in a fighting position. A second lieutenant says follow me. He shows me a line, tells me I’m in charge of it, here are your machine guns and he crawls away. I don’t have time to get scared, I’m responsible for these guys.” He left Korea combat-tested with a meritorious promotion to sergeant, but Viet Nam would prove to be a whole different type of battlefield. “In Korea, we got into plenty of firefights, but we knew where the enemy was – in front of us,” outlines Cleary. “Friendly forces are in back around our flanks and we have a main line of resistance. If the enemy broke through, we sent up reinforcements.” In Viet Nam, the

enemy was everywhere. “There were Vietnamese working in our mess halls, but at night they’re walking off,” says Cleary. “There was one guy, we called him Jo-Jo, and I said we need to watch him. They told me no, he’s a friendly, we’re trying to make friends with the local people. But I watched Jo-Jo walk away from the mess hall, he’s got a cigarette in his mouth, and he’s turning around, looking back, walking, looking back. He walks ten steps to the right or left, I don’t remember which now. “That night the mess hall took a direct hit. And that’s very unusual when they hit direct on the first round. But it was right on. And Jo-Jo didn’t come back – he’d told the enemy how to direct their aim.” During his time in Vietnam, Cleary earned a Silver Star for a particularly grueling operation. He’s not one to talk about his heroism, but those who served under him aren’t so reluctant. One of his men, Danny Francis, recently posted an account of a battle from that operation on his blog, Lead, Follow,


or Move Aside (two1marines.blogspot.com): “During the heat of the battle, many of us were pinned down under withering NRA fire…Cleary did what few men could ever do under such fire. He crawled to the wounded, actually placed a few of them on his back, then crawled with them to the rear for treatment, still under fire. He would do that several times; by a miracle he was not wounded himself…He did a great job. I’m proud to have been a witness to his acts.” Along with a Silver Star, and a Navy Commendation Medal, Cleary also earned two Purple Hearts while in Vietnam. “The second time I was wounded, they took me to the back,” says Cleary. “Back to the rear with the gear, as they say. I told the lieutenant I wanted to stay, but the rule was if you had two Purple Hearts, you had to leave the country. “Why would I want to stay, was I crazy? No. These were my troops. They knew me, I knew them. I don’t want somebody else taking charge. If they go down, I go down with them. That’s the Marine attitude I guess.” Cleary was shipped home and continued to accrue honors and awards – nothing that made him special in his own eyes, just a Marine doing his job. But in 1982, at age 50, Cleary was selected as 10th Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps, the top enlisted rank. He reported directly to General P. X. Kelly, the Marine Commandant. In that role, Cleary testified before Congress, met the President (and his horse), carried out diplomatic missions (he was part of a 4-man contingent sent to China to offer feedback on the newly-formed Chinese Marine Corps) and participated in highstakes assignments (like prying a wounded Marine embassy guard from Soviet oversight in a St. Petersburg hospital).

When the Marine barracks in Beirut was blown up by terrorists in 1983, President Reagan immediately ordered General Kelly to Beirut to discover what happened. Cleary accompanied him and they stopped at a military hospital in Wiesbaden, Germany, en route. Stepping into the room of one young corporal, Cleary saw a pair of eyes – the rest of the wounded man’s body was wrapped in bandages. The Marine had been blown over 200 feet into the air and was not expected to make it. “His mouth has been glued together, but he begins to mumble,” says Cleary. “General Kelly bends down and says, ‘Thank you for what you did, the president sent me over to award you the Purple Heart. Is there anything I can do for you?’ And we’re all standing there with tears in our eyes. “General Kelly takes off his stars so the corporal can feel them and know who is speaking to him, and the young man begins to mumble louder. General Kelly turns to me and says, ‘Sergeant Major, what’s he saying?’ “I say maybe he’s concerned about the other Marines. Because when I talk to a wounded Marine, he may have his arm half gone but he’s worried about his buddy, did he make it.” That produced even louder mumbles, says Cleary. “So a nurse holds a pad of paper and places a pencil in his pinkie – that’s all he has left – and the corporal begins to write. The nurse takes the paper and we’re all wondering what does it say.” The paper read Semper Fi. Against all odds, says Cleary, the young Marine lived. In 1987, after serving 36 years, Cleary retired. Today, at 85, he lives with his wife and a black and white cat named Diamond at Atlantic Shores, a neighborhood for 55 and better in Virginia

Beach. His uniform still fits and he occasionally dons it for the Marine Corps birthday or on Veterans Day. In 2010, the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps at that time invited him to be the guest of honor at a special ceremony in Washington D.C. Cleary was baffled by all the fuss. “Don’t make me a hero,” he says. “I did what I was supposed to do.”

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We are proud to serve those who have served our country.

HRSD’s 800 environmentally focused employees come from many backgrounds, but they share one vision: Future generations will inherit clean waterways and be able to keep them clean.

Honor Respect Service Duty Ask us about our

10% Military Discount

Happy Veterans Day to all the men and women who dedicated their lives to keeping our country and waterways safe.

Southside 757.420.1231 Peninsula 757.873.2194 Gloucester 804.684.8029 smithandkeene.com

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Dave Lennox

PREMIER DEALER

It’s A Matter Of Trust. It’s A Matter Of Commitment. It’s The Pursuit Of Excellence.

Apply online at: www.hrsd.com/jobs


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THANK YOU VETERANS! SKILLED LABOR/EQUIPMENT OPERATORS NEEDED Corman Construction, leading heavy hwy., bridge and utility contractor in the Mid-Atlantic region has the following positions available in Tidewater area:

Carpenters - Bridge exp. preferred; Equipment Operators Excavators/Loaders; Pipe Layers; Skilled Laborers Competitive Wages/Benefits. Apply in person: 1403 Greenbrier Pkwy., Suite 575, Chesapeake, VA 23320 or Email resume to employment@cormanconstruction.com. Equal Opportunity Employer, Veterans, Disabled, and Women Encouraged to Apply.

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To our Employee Veterans and All Veterans:

TÄ?ĆēÄ? YĔĚ FĔė YĔĚė SĊėěĎĈĊ Sales and Service of Industrial Electric Motors, Electric Controls and Pumps. Celebrating over 30 years in business!

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528 S. Military Highway, Suite B • Virginia Beach • 757-424-0300

ATTENTION VETERANS! The Hampton Sheriff’s Office is currently recruiting Sheriff’s Deputies. We are an EEO/V3 Certified Employer, and value your service! E e! Learn about our opportunities at www.Hampton.gov/sheriff

For your unselfish efforts‌ For serving our country selflessly‌ Y

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In 1942, WWII was heating up and Bill Jenkins, age 18, was not a man to let a mere 4-F classification stand in the way of his plans to serve in military. “I had decided I wanted to be a Navy pilot,” recalls Jenkins. “So I went to the recruiting station and they told me I had a herniated condition and they wouldn’t even draft me.” As far as the Navy was concerned, that was the end of it; Jenkins had other ideas. Through his physician, he located a surgeon who could repair the condition. “I went at my own expense and had an operation and went back to the recruiting station,” says Jenkins. This time, the Navy passed him. “So then I had to go to the Widener Building in Philadelphia for three days of intensive physical and mental tests; that’s how the Navy was in those days,” Jenkins says. He passed all of those tests as well. “They swore me in – but then they gave me one final test, which is the recovery rate on your blood pressure,” describes Jenkins. “They said we’re sorry young man, we’re going to have to discharge you.” The persistent Jenkins managed to talk them into retesting him. “I went out and had lunch, came back and passed. And I’ve passed every physical since,” says Jenkins. Now an official naval aviation cadet, Jenkins was sent home to wait for an opening in the flight training program. “The weeks and months went by and every able-bodied man was drafted and I’m still waiting for a call,” Jenkins says. The long-awaited call came in mid-1943. “But the Navy had all the pilots they needed by then, so I went to boot camp in a holding process,” says Jenkins.

Just as well. The Navy requires their pilots to be able to swim; Jenkins didn’t know how. That extra time at boot camp gave him the opportunity to learn, he says. Finally Jenkins made it to flight training, ending up at Naval Air Station Pensacola. “I was supposed to have a choice of either multiengine or single engine planes,” he says. The Navy chose for him – single engine float planes. Jenkins was happy to take anything that flew. The young pilot had just completed his training when the atom bomb was dropped in 1945, bringing WWII to a close. “They told me I could leave the Navy or fly in the Naval Reserve,” says Jenkins. He chose to continue flying. “And like so many other GIs, I used the GI Bill to get my education,” he says. Jenkins flew planes for the Reserve and later transferred to the Army National Guard as the Korean War broke out. He trained to go to Korea with an air defense artillery unit but drew a stateside assignment instead. “Then in the early 60s, the board calls me in and tells me to go out and recruit some men to form a brand new aviation company,” says Jenkins. “I got aviators who had been flying helicopters and set up a training program. “We’d gone through Bells, Hillers, Sikorskys, now we had Hueys and Vietnam was in full swing,” says Jenkins. “We’re at full strength, I

said we’re ready to go. But our outfit was never called up.” Jenkins remained in the National Guard until age 60, retiring a full bird colonel. During his 42 years of military service, he flew planes, trained other pilots, and worked in air defense, the signal corps, intelligence and civil defense. His civilian life has been just as full. In between teaching agricultural science, biology and chemistry, Jenkins earned a Ph.D. He also worked his own farm and become a certified flight and instrument instructor. At 92, he’s retired now. Framed photographs and mementoes from his earlier days as a Navy pilot line the walls of his home. “I served because I felt Uncle Sam needed me,” says Jenkins. And whatever assignment I had, I was willing to put all I had into it. “The training I got as a naval aviator was the best training I ever got anywhere. It made a man out of me. Flying over the ocean for many hours out of sight of land, having to find your way back to the ship and all you had was dead reckoning navigation, that training enabled me to become successful in other walks of life,” says Jenkins. He may be retired, but he hasn’t been want you to have somebody in the backseat grounded. Yet. “I joined the Tidewater Soaring with you when you go up. One of these days I’ll Society,” says Jenkins, flying gliders. “This past quit forever.” One of these days. But not today. spring they said we still want you to fly, but we



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